All That's Left Behind
by maxbialystock
Summary: The whole Baroness bit is left out here. Maria, fiercely loyal to the von Trapp family, flees with them, but she never makes it to America. The story begins at the end of the war.
1. Chapter 1

First off, the obligatory I-do-not-own-The-Sound-Of-Music-but-damn-I-wish-I-did disclaimer.

Here goes nothing...

**1945, America**

Kurt chewed absentmindedly chewed on his straw, sucking up the remnants of his milkshake while trying to concentrate on his text in the noisy diner. Two years of tutoring from next-door neighbours and several black eyes on the playground had quickly made a proficient English speaker and reader out of Kurt. Now, seven years after he had left Austria, he sounded and looked the classic all American boy. Kurt flipped the pages around, shaking his head. He abruptly turned around and tapped the boy sitting in the booth next to him on the shoulder.

"Andy, I give up. Can you ask Stuart if he can lend me his comic version?"

"Not a chance, I've asked--"

" Hell no," cut in another of his friends, " I'm going to be needing that for the rest of the week if I want to pass this course!"

Kurt sighed and turned pleadingly to the girl sitting next to his two friends. "Say, Julia, can I borrow your notes from last--"

Right about then they heard the overlapping, scattered voices in the diner turning into alternating waves of "Shush!" and "Turn the volume up!" The noise quickly died down. Not a scrape of a knife was heard. Kurt and Andy exchanged excited yet uncertain glances at each other and the other customers as everyone strained to hear the announcement coming from the crackling radio in the corner of the room.

_"... over. I repeat, once again... the war... is over."_

Everyone continued staring at each other in stunned silence for a few more seconds.

Then the entire diner erupted into cheers.

Complete strangers hugged, kissed and danced together. Kurt and his friends joined in the whooping and cheering.

Abruptly he stopped, as though suddenly having remembered something. " Hey Andy... guys... I've got to get home."

Then he turned and ran, and didn't stop till he got home to his family.

The door was wide open. He was first greeted by the sight of Gretl and Marta with a few friends they had over, screaming and dancing around. Watching them, happy and teary-eyed, were Brigitta and Louisa. In the sofa in the corner, Liesl rested her head against her boyfriend Nick's shoulder. He heard loud, rapid footsteps behind him and saw Friedrich tearing up the front path. Friedrich practically slammed into Kurt, enveloping him in what was a cross between a hug and a headlock. " It's over, Kurt," he said, slapping him on the back. "Can you believe that?"

They stumbled into the living room, and saw a tall, sturdy figure emerging in the hallway from the study. The figure surveyed the ecstatic faces cavorting about the living room.

"Thank God," the former Captain von Trapp said simply. " Thank God it's all over."



That evening Georg spent most of the time in the hallway next to the telephone, his children anxiously crowding around him. It was an almost impossible task to get through to anyone. The phone lines were jammed, millions of people desperately trying to reach out to the people they loved on the other side of the Atlantic.

"Yes, yes... I understand... well, by telegram... right-- Marta, Gretl, please stop crowding me..." eventually he got cut off again and hung up.

"We are going back, aren't we?" were Friedrich's first words.

"Oh no, not quite so soon, it would be impossible to get.. home... for at least a few months. I'm trying to find out how we can reach everyone back home in Salzburg..." he paused. "You know, Frau Schmidt... Herr Schneider..."

"And Fraulein Maria?" almost all seven voices chorused in startling unison, surprising even themselves. They hadn't talked about her in a while.

" Wha--?" Georg turned pale. "Ah-- uhh.." he fumbled for words, running his hand over his face. Brigitta looked at him suspiciously.

"Why yes of course, your little Fraulein! How could I have forgotten! Well-- look-- everything's a huge mess right now, everyone's trying to call. I'm going to try to send out a telegram first thing tomorrow, all right?" His children nodded, although they peered at their father's face as though wanting to ask him something, the one thing they wanted to know about their last night in Austria, but not daring to.

**Austria, 1938**

"Don't panic. He's by himself, I think, he can't do much, might not even be on patrol... " Max whispered as their car slowly pulled up towards a lone Nazi on the otherwise deserted street.

"You do the talking, Max." said the Captain.

"Who else?"

Gretl whimpered and Maria pulled her tightly to her. Max glanced at her with admiration and sympathy, this young woman who had just chosen to give up her simple. sheltered life, the hills she loved, to accompany her employer's seven children to a different country, a world away. The Nazi started towards them and signalled for them to stop. He came towards the side, and peered into the car.

"What are you doing out here so late?"

" Wedding tomorrow, sir. Big day. We were supposed to be at our cousin's place in time for supper but the little one threw our plans into disarray... eh?" he turned around and gave Gretl a wink.

The young man gave no reply and continued looking over the occupants of the back seat, as if to check for any stowaways. Maria tried not to stare, giving a short, cordial nod instead before looking away.

"Where is this wedding?"

Max, of course, had the details worked out. Satisfied, the Nazi stepped in front of the car, signalling to them to reverse. He watched them, his face inscrutable.

Then without warning, a flicker of recognition crossed his face. His expression changed in a second. " Captain von Trapp!"



"Oh help..." whispered Liesl. Maria turned to the seven young charges she had come to love so much, trying to give them a calm, reassuring nod, although her own stomach lurched in terror.

"Stop the car immediately! Immediately!" he pulled out a whistle.

"Go, go, go!" hissed Georg. Max put his foot on the accelerator. The car lurched forward. In almost the same instant the Nazi put down his whistle, drew out a gun and aimed.

" Get down!" someone screamed.

In that awful moment in between Georg, the older children instinctively pressed their bodies as flat against the seats as possible. Marta and Gretl, in their panic, got up instead. Maria grabbed them and pushed them onto the floorboards.

A split second later the windscreen shattered.

Max, ducking the flying glass, floored the vehicle and swerved out of the way, brushing against the Nazi and knocking him to the floor.

The next few minutes were complete chaos and confusion as Max, trying desperately to lose their trail, weaved in and out of twisted, unfamiliar streets, and then onto bumpy country road, the car now a dangerous swirling repository of broken glass.

Finally, they came to a halt in the middle of the countryside, deserted save for one or two cottages which lights they could see in the distance. They parked near a clump of trees.

" Everyone all right?" the Captain asked as he gingerly got down, opened the side door and slowly helped the children out one by one. Most of them were softly groaning in pain; but as far as he could tell, at least none of them had been badly cut. They slowly stumbled several feet away from the car and tried to brush glass bits from their clothes. Maria still sat in the car. She didn't move. A chill went right through his spine.

"Fraulein... are you all right... did you.. get cut?" Georg carefully eased himself into the car to check her for any injuries. He lit his cigarette lighter. Her face was ashen, her eyes were tight shut, her mouth drawn in a thin line. She sat stiffly in her seat. No, no glass had touched her neck... he opened her thick, rough coat-- and felt the dreaded warm liquid oozing out of her. He saw a crimson red spreading all over her blouse, torn by a bullet sized hole, pooling at a spot just below her chest. Georg drew in his breath sharply. He looked over at his children. They were still trying to shake glass bits out of their coats, too far away to see what was happening.

"Max? Max!"

Max hurried over. Georg lost no time in explaining the situation to him. "... take the children first. Don't let them know about the gunshot wound. Just say, if you must, that she got hurt. I'll try to get help from the nearest house..." They made their plans as quickly as possible, trying not to alarm the children, who by now were starting to stare and wonder. As Liesl started to walk towards the car Georg signalled for her to stop. Georg clapped his hand on Max's shoulder and shook it, conveying his thanks silently. Max nodded in perfect understanding and walked towards the children. Georg quickly but carefully lifted Maria into his arms. He felt a spasm run through her body. He quickly carried her in the direction of the nearest cottage.


	2. Chapter 2

Maria gasped in pain and dug her fingers into Georg's shoulders every few paces. The slightest movement was agony for her, and her ordeal was made all the more unbearable by the the Captain having to stumble about in almost total darkness. He tried his best not to jostle her, but he had already begun to feel the warm wet seep and spread through his jacket and knew there was no way he could slow down. It felt as though he could have easily been walking for seconds or hours. His sense of time was completely lost. All he knew was that the lights of the houses seemed barely closer than they were before. Suddenly his foot struck a rock, causing him to trip and nearly fall over. Maria threw her head back and cried out in such pain that he knew he had to stop.

" Put me down," she begged, sobbing. Georg slowly lay her on the ground. He took off his jacket and rolled it up, tucking it beneath her head as a pillow. He flicked open his lighter. The single flame illuminated her face, distorted in pain, covered in sweat and almost completely drained of colour. Her neck veins were distended. Georg was at a loss. If they didn't get help right away she would die, no question. But he knew there was no way she could withstand anymore pain. Perhaps he should leave her here and run to get help... Right then he heard the distant roar of a motor. He looked up and saw three pairs of headlights glide towards the cottages. They stopped outside the houses. The slam of car doors echoed throughout the vast open plain, and he heard the unmistakable barks of Alsatians-- and saw the familiar silhouettes of uniformed men, stark against the lights coming from the windows, dashing any hopes of them getting help there.

Were they here for him? He didn't know, but there was little doubt that it was no longer safe for them to be here. He softly explained the situation to Maria. He would have carry her over the hills instead. He leaned over Maria and was about to lift her up when she resisted.

"It won't help... I'm in far too much pain... please... I'd rather... here... I can't-- I can't-- I'm sorry--" her eyes filled with tears. Georg tried to coax her but he knew she was right. She simply would not be able to bear the pain. And carrying her over the mountains would be a futile exercise. It would be a three, even four hour trek in the wilderness. Maria would be dead long before they reached Switzerland.

"I'll stay with you then. I'll stay with you until--" he paused.

" They'll discover you... you can't-- you have seven children, I--" Maria stopped, trying desperately to catch her breath.

" I can't leave you here."

" Tell.. children.. I love them..." she whispered. Her chest heaved.

" And I--" In the flickering light from the cigarette lighter Georg stared at that beautiful freckled face with those brilliant blue eyes that always seemed to be brimming with spirit, now beginning to dull and glaze over. He reached out with his one free hand and stroked that golden cap of hair, cropped in that silly pageboy haircut that he had come to adore. "I'm sorry."

He snapped his cigarette lighter close, the darkness erasing her face. And got up and ran.

A day later, when he had reunited with his children across the border, he told them that Maria had been badly cut by glass but that they were taken in by a kindly farmer and his wife who managed to stitch her up, and she was on the mend, and it was probably safer for her to remain there.

He spent the next seven years trying to block out the memory of the night he left his little governess in a darkened field, alone and dying.

It was the most cruel thing he'd ever done. But also the most necessary. That was what war was.


	3. Chapter 3

**1938, en route to America**

The mood was mutinous in the small ship cabin all eight of them were cramped into. Marta, bored and restless, whined and pouted and carried on in such a manner that caused Brigitta, trying to finish the one novel she had with her, to uncharacteristically lose her temper in the worst way. Marta quickly burst into dramatic, attention-seeking tears, which set Gretl off. Ever since their harrowing escape from Austria, their behavior had taken a downward spiral into late toddlerhood. In their unsucessful, conflicting attempts to quieten their younger siblings, Kurt and Louisa started to go at each other, culminating in Friedrich screaming at both of them.

_"That's it-- I've had it!"_ Friedrich jumped off his bunk and made his way to the door. Georg, trying distract Gretl with alternating bribes and threats, called after him. " Stop right there. Where do you think you're going? It's not safe to be wandering around the ship at this time of the night--"

"Dammit, I'm not a baby anymore, so if you please, kindly stop treating me like one!"

"You watch your langua--" the cabin door slammed shut. Gretl howled.

Liesl, who had been sitting passively in a corner the entire time, got up with a short sigh and started towards the door.

"Liesl?" her father looked at her helplessly. Liesl paused in the doorway.

"I want Fraulein Maria!" Gretl whined.

"Come on now, don't cry... Tell you what, I'll tell you a story, how about--"

"No, I don't want to hear a story from you! I want Fraulein Maria!"

" Stop that, Gretl! " Louisa snapped. "you're hurting Father's feelings."

This time Marta, whose histrionics had subsided for the moment, began to sob in earnest. " I want Fraulein Maria back!"

Georg looked pleadingly at Liesl again. Liesl simply stepped into the doorway and closed the door, shutting out her family behind her. So did she.

The corridor was cold, dark and dank, but anything was better than that cabin. She found a little stairwell where she could sit. She knew her father needed her, but she was tired. Tired of having to be a sixteen going on seventeen mother to all of them. Tired of having to attend to everyone's needs but her own. Tired that no one, including her father, bothered to see her as anything other than the oldest sister, the one to come to for help, rather than a person. She was sixteen. She had a life, or at least she once did. She once had a boyfriend with whom she could indulge in silly poetry and quaintly adolescent fantasies. A boyfriend who began slipping away when he started to see his future in Hitler rather than her, she thought darkly. And there was no one in her family whom she could share any of this with. Only Maria. In Maria she found a friend, the older sister she never had. This vivacious young woman, only a few years older than herself, so alive and brash, warm, funny, the kind of person you always wanted to be around. Who could both climb trees and run around Salzburg with the energy and unaffectedness of a child, and at the same time sit down and listen to Liesl and talk with her. And completely understand, with the empathy and understanding only another sixteen year old could have-- and yet the sort of care and concern only a mother would have. Liesl remembered how she stood in the doorway watching as Maria helped her siblings pack that last day, trying to cheer them up. She had managed to turn the frightening and unbearably sad prospect of leaving Austria into a bright new adventure. One that they would all share together.

And now, so unexpectedly, she was gone from their lives. Back in Switzerland they had all wept for hours when they realised she had been left behind. They tried to believe their father when he told them that she would be perfectly safe and in good hands, that the Nazis would not be looking for her-- there wasn't anything else they could do. Thankfully the next three weeks were at least made bearable by the presence of their beloved Uncle Max, who kept their spirits up with his acerbic wit and sense of fun, almost like the sense of fun Maria had. But now even Uncle Max was gone. Instead of America, he made his way to Holland. And the full realisation of Maria's absence hit them. Liesl felt very much alone again, almost the way she had felt when her mother died. She stared into space for a while longer, then, steeling herself, got up and headed back to her cabin, where she would resume her responsibility as her family's caretaker.

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Liesl would later remember on that tedious journey to America it seemed nobody could stop thinking or talking about Maria, except for her father, who fell silent whenever her name was mentioned. But, it seemed, as soon as they got off the ship and stepped into their new lives as American citizens, all of that abruptly ceased, as though they'd forgotten she'd existed. Only Gretl and Marta made passng references to her, but that soon faded. Children forget quickly.

The first two years in America were difficult. The first few months were spent in a small apartment in New York, and then thankfully they managed to move to Vermont. With its mountains and open spaces it was so much more like home. Friedrich and Kurt both took up a paper route. With no servants as of old, all of them learnt to pitch in with the housework. Gone were their strictly observed bedtimes and their formal mealtimes. They had breakfast in their pyjamas, with Kurt serving them slightly burnt and very misshapen pancakes. Even their father seemed to adapt to the more casual American lifestyle; gone was the autocratic disciplinarian-- although he could be stern when he needed to be-- in his place was a slightly absentminded, shambolic father who would on occasion mistakenly pour orange juice into his cereal and whose gruff demeanor belied a wicked sense of humour. They adapted and thrived. They made new memories. Georg found work with a local inn, and over the years he rose through the ranks, eventually being given the position of manager. Friedrich shot up to a strapping six feet two and was very much a ladies' man. Brigitta consistently made the honor roll and had her eyes firmly set on Wellesley. She and Louisa shared a fierce passion for MGM movies and showtunes. Marta at thirteen was showing signs of becoming a promising artist. They had grown into the family they had never thought they could become all those years ago.But for Liesl-- indeed all of them, although they never knew since they never once talked about it-- with every holiday, every boating trip, every Christmas, she couldn't help secretly thinking to herself how perfect this was all was, but only one little thing was missing. One small but very vital piece was missing from all those boating trips, those recitals, those Christmases. Only Maria.


	4. Chapter 4a

**A/N: Re this chapter, I've severely altered the time frame of certain historical events. It's extremely gratuitous, OTT fantasy-- but hey, let me indulge! ;)**

For the next one or two weeks Georg was like a child at the doctor's waiting for his injection, nervously anticipating the dreaded moment his children would bring up the matter of Maria again. Thankfully, it never came, and after a while Georg could rest easy, calculating that it had been swept safely back under the carpet. Besides, the nation was being swept up in a wave of post-war euphoria; it was all new beginnings and street parades and confetti. The world had gotten what it had been waiting seven years for and it was a time to celebrate, to let go, to look forward, not back. Georg optimistically concluded and was determined that his family would do the same. They'd been doing fairly well all these years after all. Their future was here and now, for them to grab hold of, and it did not do to be needlessly held back by shadowy memories of ghosts past, relentlessly being pulled under by a neverending cycle of nagging doubts and regrets and wheres and what ifs.

One ghost from Georg's past however did show up, at his workplace a month later. He was busy poring over some documents when he was told that a "most dissatisfied" guest was insisting that he was in fact entitled to a free stay and wished to speak to the manager. _Oh God, not another one_, he thought as he gritted his teeth, straightened his tie and went out to the front desk. He stopped short.

"_Max, you-_-" he proceeded to let out a string of words that revealed to everyone in the lobby his background as a red-blooded sailor. " Where the hell have you been? How did you find me?" he steered Max towards a sofa away from the main lobby, still slightly in a daze himself.

" Oh come on now," Max began frogmarching him toward the hotel door, " you know those are questions that have answers far too lengthy to _not_to be delivered over lunch."

Georg soon found himself installed at one of the most expensive restaurants nearby, found himself as in days past picking up the tab as Max entertained him with his escapades that took him from Europe to New York and beyond, and now here. It was the same old Max, the same breezy, dry wit, ever charming, ever lighthearted, the foil to Georg's more brooding persona. Georg, though, could detect he was deftly sidestepping and leaving out less savory bits of his story. But he wasn't one to pry, and Max wasn't one to be anything other than his established persona of the unflappable wit.

" So," Max thumbed through the dessert menu, "Can I assume there's a spare room-- or a spare couch in your house temporarily available? Or a cupboard under the stairs?"

Georg sighed dramatically. "Yes, Max. And while you're at it, I believe the hotel has a position open, if you are by any chance willing."

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It turned out to be a very pleasant arrangement after all. The children were overjoyed to see their old Uncle Max again, and Georg found that he was grateful for the company. He hadn't realised how isolated he had been, having had virtually no social life all this while, dividing all his time between his work and his children. Max was rather amused at what an adept "house husband", as he put it, Georg had become, and was determined to get him to live it up a little. Georg soon found himself enjoying things he hadn't enjoyed in years, and Liesl or Kurt would sometimes come backsically late at night to find their father and Uncle Max sharing a bottle of wine in the study, encased in a cloud of cigarette smoke, generally behaving and laughing like raffish young bachelors.

Brigitta and Louisa's birthdays were coming up. Their birthdays were just a few days apart, and somehow had gotten it into their heads that they just had to celebrate in style by taking a trip to New York to watch the new Broadway musical that everyone had been raving about. "You're kidding right?" Friedrich said, pouring milk into his cereal. " My friend worked at one of the theatres as an usher during the break, and he said you'd be very lucky to get a gallery seat right at the back for that show in a year's time." The matter of actually getting tickets for such a smash hit just hadn't occurred to the girls, and they were suitably deflated at the collapse of their plans.

A week later, as Louisa was having her breakfast, Max came strolling up and, without a word, placed something right next to her plate. " Oh, hi Uncle Max, what's that--" she let out a tiny gasp and clamped one hand over her mouth as she picked up the small stack of tickets.

"Oh yes, nine tickets-- including one for your most resourceful and well-connected Uncle Max-- to the Saturday matinee two weeks from now."

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They spent two days in New York, planning to catch the bus back after the matinee. They hadn't been back since they'd relocated nearly six years ago; the last time around, they'd arrived with very little knowledge of the English language and were near penniless. This time they were here under very different circumstances and could fully enjoy all the things that had eluded them back then. The first day was spent in a whirlwind of sightseeing, except for Kurt who had a massive overdose of hotdogs and pickles, forcing him to retire to the hotel early.

The next morning they went out to see the Statue of Liberty. For Georg, there was something unsettling about seeing what had been their first glimpse of America again. It only made that shadowy land that lay across that dark body of water all that much closer. The feeling grew and grew as the day went on, and he tried to shake it off as they made their way to the Mark Hellinger Theatre, hurried along by an increasingly impatient Brigitta and Louisa.

Georg was slightly disgruntled at all the rushing. " I mean, honestly, Max, what would these _Americans_ know about Shaw?" he whispered as the usher directed them to their seats, earning a withering glance from Brigitta.

Max chuckled. "What would an _Austrian _know about Shaw?"

They settled down in their seats. Eventually the lights dimmed, and just as Georg looked around to check that they hadn't lost Marta or Gretl in all the rush, the orchestra swelled. Georg's heart skipped a bit as a wall of sound hit him. _Just how long had it been since he'd last heard a live orchestra?_ It took him back, all the way back to the party he had thrown for the Baroness-- Stop it, he told himself. Concentrate, just concentrate on the show. And he tried. But that part of his mind that he kept trying to shut off had fired to life, and every silliest little thing in the show started reminding him of things, anything and everything. The two bachelor gentlemen-- he could somehow fancy them as Max and himself. And the urchin girl, an urchin armed with a faintly familiar spitfire nature, wearing that ridiculous broad-brimmed hat-- "_Hat--off_--" he thought he heard himself say, the memory of another atrocious looking hat worn by another girl flashing before him. He studied the professor's look of undisguised disgust as he surveyed the young guttersnipe in her raggedy glory before him. _" Turn around." "What?" she exclaimed, and then hesistantly did as she was told. He visibly cringed at her dowdy attire. "It's the dress. It'll have to go."_

Georg's fist crumpled his playbill tightly. It was as though unseen forces were conspiring to play an awful trick on him. From the B-reserve seats Georg could see that, hell, even the young leading lady on stage was, like some diabolical in-joke, of a similar build and look to-- _her._ He felt her ghost everywhere, watching and taunting him.


	5. Chapter 4b thoroughlymodernjulie

_**A/N (PLEASE READ): I've basically finished working out the entire plot, but there are certain scenes, and/or certain types of scenes that I am completely hopeless at writing, without which the plot can't advance. Thoroughlymodernjulie-- one of the best fanfiction writers around-- has very kindly come to my rescue and is co-writing; I'll be handing over all the chapters to do with their pre-war existence, and then some, over to her charge. To avoid uneasy switches/breaks between different writing styles, I'll be indicating who wrote the section/chapter in question at the beginning. Cheers, maxbialystock**_

_**Thoroughlymodernjulie**__  
_

_"'ere, what did 'e come for?"_

_"Say your vowels."_

_It was here that this young girl was about to explode. "I know my vowels. I knew them before I came."_

Georg was transfixed upon this intriguing young woman. There was something strangely familiar about the character- and it made him uncomfortable for some reason. He focused soley instead upon the exchange between these two characters: nagging back and forth, to and fro. It was a battle of wills, a mental tug of war. It made him remember.

_"Fräulein, send the children to bed. I want a word with you in my office." Captain von Trapp spun on his heel, heading rigidly for his private study. He seemed to have failed to notice entirely the scene that had been before his eyes._

_Maria was seated on the loveseat in the living room, and all the children sprawled comfortably at her feet. They were quietly harmonizing to her soft soprano, which was accompanied by her old, trusty guitar._

_Due to their father's sudden appearance and exit, the children were all glancing around at each other, worried expression on every one of their faces. Maria was simply staring after him, mouth gaping. Her fingers failed to cease the vibration of a well-tuned guitar string. Liesl's concerned voice jolted her though, and with a start, she hustled them upstairs for bed._

_Once back downstairs, Maria walked quietly towards the naval captain's private study and rapped sharply at his door. He bid her entrance immediately._

_She stood before him with some air of determination, boldness, and something else. Was it defiance? "You called, Captain?"_

_"Fräulein Maria, when I hired you a month ago, one thing I told you is that I would not permit my children to dream away the summer holidays. Am I not correct?" Georg watched her evenly, knowing what her response would be._

_She simply nodded, stating, "You did, sir."_

_"Did I not also tell you that discipline and bedtime are strictly observed?"_

_She bowed her head- somewhat meekly- and said, "Yes."_

_"Then you must perhaps know, that I do not appreciate this extra liesure time that you've been allowing the children in my absence?"_

_At these words, Maria's head snapped up and she was instantly flaming. "You left them in my charge. They are my responsibility, and therefore I make the decisions of what we do together, and when."_

_Georg was blown away by her insubordination. How dare she? He said cooly, "I will not tolerate such insuboridination, Fräulein."_

_Maria's fuse was lit, however. "For heaven's sake, Captain- they're children! Let them _enjoy _their childhood and the things that they've been blessed with!"_

_"I'm finished with you, Fräulei-"_

_"Captain, your children have some of the most beautiful voices I've heard in my life- listen! _Listen _to them. They want to sing- let them!" Her eyes were lit with an icy-blue fire._

_Georg met her resistance with an equally icy tone of voice. "I told you I am finished. Heed my warning: If an occurance of insubordination happens again, I shall send you immediately back to the abbey. Good night." He watched her cooly._

_Maria was standing rigid on the spot, breathing rushed, chest heaving. "Good night, Capatain." She turned sharply and smartly on her heel and swept out the door. It slammed loudly behind her._

The strains of the large orchestra flaring up again with a majestic air brought Georg back to the present. A soaring, pure soprano began to sing with elation. He forced himself to tune in and stay out of his musings.

_"...I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night, and still have begged for more..."_

Dance. That taunting night when something had undoubtedly changed. What had it been?

_She laughed, trying to twist herself around. "Oh. Kurt, we're really going to have to practice..." She broke off as he took her hands in his and they began the traditional folk dance. Neither were aware of seven staring children._

Had it been a mere dance? She had flowed so easily to the beat of that breathtaking dance, formally known as the Ländler. Georg hadn't danced in so long- it had been years. He assumed it to be true for both of them. And yet, Fräulein Maria seemed to glide around the floor with him, dancing as one. He hadn't been consciously aware of anything in the particular moments, but afterwards, he realized he could have continued on and on with her in his arms, dancing to a music that was sweet and refreshing to his ear. Music that he hadn't heard in the longest time.

What had stopped this partnership? A moment of closeness, of sudden awareness, a move which the dance called for? What had she been feeling? What had been rushing though her mind? What could have compelled her to stop? He'd found himself genuinely disappointed when she'd explained that she couldn't remember any more. Between their arguments and this dance, something must have changed. What was it? He swore he didn't know. Did he want to?

_"I washed my face and 'ands before I come, I did."_

Damn, what could it have been? She ran away, but then came back. What?

_"I...had an obligation to fufull...so I came back to fufill it. And I missed the children."_

_"Fräulein, Austria is no more. Perhaps you should get away while you can."_

_Her blue eyes searched his quietly. "Captain, I'm here on God's errand. My own liberties matter none. I've in no way been told that my task has been completed. My responsibility is for your children."_

Subconciously, Georg took in the closing lines of the play. He looked up to the stage at last, only to see the curtain falling and the crowd rising to give a standing ovation. He did likewise.


	6. Chapter 4c maxbialystock

**Back to maxbialystock-- apologies for my slow build-up of the plot. Hopefully it's not too plodding a read. Enjoy (I hope!)**

The doors of the theatre opened and disgorged its matinee audience abruptly back into the real world. Max led the way through the maze of chattering out-of-towners congregating in the lobby and out into the late afternoon sun, towards a small restaurant around the corner where they could grab an early dinner before boarding the bus.

The lone waiter pulled together two large tables for them at the otherwise deserted restaurant, and once they were seated Max was inundated with a chorus of effusive thank-yous and even more effusive praise for the show.

" So, tell me Kurt," he glanced over at the member of the family who had the strongest aversion to Brigitta and Louisa's record collection, " What's your verdict? Was it everything you expected it to be-- like getting a root canal?"

" No, it actually was pretty good!" Kurt admitted. " But!" he hurriedly continued, " I just got lucky with this one this time. It doesn't mean those two can drag me to every last annoying singing extravaganza from here on!"

The waiter was just bringing out the food from the kitchen when Marta started shifting around in her chair, looking frantically around her. " Has anyone seen my handbag?"

Everyone looked around them, shaking their heads. Marta sighed in frustration. " I think I might have left it at the theatre. I'll be right back."

She ran all the way back to the theatre. She hung around nervously in the lobby for a few moments before shyly enlisting the help of an usher, who quickly found her handbag left untouched on the floor under her seat. Relieved, Marta quickly made her way back to the restaurant, taking the route around the back of the theatre. Just as she was passing the stagedoor a loose shoelace made her lurch forward dangerously and stop. She sighed and bent down. Even at 13 she was constantly tripping over her shoelaces. Even Gretl had mastered the all-important childhood skill before she did, she absently remembered. It had been such a source of consternation back then. Just then a mock stern stare hiding an amused twinkle in the eye floated into view in her mind's eye. _" Young lady, it's not that bad, I myself couldn't tie my shoelaces until I was ten-- now what's so funny?-- Let's see you try-- remember, two bunny ears, make a cross, that's it--"_

She pulled the two ends tight and quickly rushed ahead, almost colliding into a figure that suddenly appeared before her. "I'm so sorry," Marta apologised profusely. She looked up at the girl she had nearly ran into.

" F-fraulein Maria?" she blurted out in her confused state.

The young star looked puzzled. Then she smiled. " No, _I'm_ sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." she spoke in a crisp, clear English accent. " Were you here to see the show?"

It took a few seconds for Marta to realize who she was. She felt herself blush at the faux pas.

" Oh, yes, it was great-- you were really great-- your voice was-- could I-- could I have your autograph please?" she fumbled in her handbag, her face getting redder by the moment as she realised she had neither pen nor paper.

"It's all right, I might have some here in my bag." the girl reached in and produced a pen and a notebook from her bag.

" What's your name?"

" Marta."

" Without the 'H', right? That's a lovely name."

" Thank you." Marta didn't know what else to say. Her bottom lip quivered, and she could feel the fierce sting of tears in her eyes. She didn't know why.

The girl scribbled something in her notebook with a flourish and tore the page off. " There we go," she said triumphantly, handing the scrap of paper to Marta. Her expression changed. "Are you all right?"

Marta held her breath and blinked, feeling foolish. "I'm okay," she said in a voice that suggested she wasn't. The girl seemed to wait patiently for more of an answer.

" Oh, I'm okay, you just, you just look like, you remind me of someone, that's all." her cheeks reddened further. She hadn't planned on saying that. It really wasn't a big deal at all. Why was she even telling a complete stranger?

The girl threw back her head and laughed, " No one has ever told me that before! I've always been told no one else in the world could have that jaw-- or that strange ski slope nose of mine," she said self-deprecatingly.

Marta smiled weakly, still blinking furiously. Trust her to cry out of the blue in front of a big Broadway star. She could have kicked herself. She thought she should say a quick goodbye and run off. She had never felt so embarrassed or awkward in her life.

" You miss her then?" the voice was sympathetic, not impatient.

Do I?" I-I dunno." she shrugged.

The girl nodded kindly. " That's all right too."

A group of people coming out of the stagedoor called to her. " Well, I have to go," she said, smiling one last time at Marta. Then she was gone.

Back at the restaurant a minor fuss was made over her chance encounter. " Did you see Rex or Stanley too? Were they still there?" Brigitta asked excitedly.

" On a first-name basis now are we Brigitta?" Friedrich laughed.

" Dunno. Didn't see them." Marta shrugged absently. All she could think of was. Do I? I was just a kid. She was just the governess. It's been so long. There's really no reason why I should.

* * *

Back home, much later that night, Georg sat alone in his study, stiff drink in hand, thinking almost the same thing. Max had decided to stay on in New York for a day or two more, leaving Georg with no one to distract him from his thoughts and memories. The floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping wave after wave of memory from pounding and washing over him. He didn't understand it, didn't know what it was. He was used to people dying for every callous reason under the sun. He had been a naval officer for years, served in one of the bloodiest wars in modern history. His own wife had died-- it happens. Why then did _she_ continue to have such a grip on him? He didn't know, but by the time the clock struck four in the morning, and his fifth glass still had no effect whatsoever on dulling his mind to sleep, he realized he could no longer, however foolish it was, pretend it didn't matter to him. He needed closure. And cruel-- or selfish-- as it was, he would have to tell his children the truth in the morning. Damnit, they weren't children anymore, they could very well handle it. Probably barely remembered her. He sighed, and slowly got up from his chair. Just then a gust of icy wind suddenly blew into the room from an open window. The light flickered. He stopped, imagining a presence watching him from behind. In his tipsy state-- almost on a lark-- he spun around dramatically, pompously bellowing, with all the theatrical panache he could muster, the closing words of the wretched show Max had taken them to see.

" _Eliza, where the devil are my slippers?"_

He looked sadly at the open door of the study. There was no one there.


	7. Chapter 5 thoroughlymodernjulie

If anyone's still reading, our apologies for the huge gap between updates; real life got in the way as always... anyway we've been discussing how each chapter should go, this is what I've come up with for this chapter as far as the plot outline goes, but it was solely thoroughlymodernjulie's job to bring it to life..-- _maxbialystock_

**_thoroughlymodernjulie_**

Months seemed to float by, and though he and his children said nothing on the subject, there was an obvious void and stiff stillness that seemed to resonate throughout every person's soul in the von Trapp household. Ever since the night of the play, ever since he'd told them the truth with as much brevity of detail as possible, Georg had been unsuccessfully fighting to keep back memories of Maria Ranier; most of them were small and insignificant. Or were they? Georg was slowly learning over time that the little things seemed to hold the most meaning over time, even if they were scarcely remembered until some such random moment.

Random moments. That's what Maria Rainier had become; she had somehow become a part of Georg's silent world permanently again, images and memories of her refusing to leave his head, stubborn as the woman herself was. Sometimes such things, such remembrances of her, drove Georg up the wall. Many nights, he stayed up late indulging in strong drinks to try and make them all fade, banish themselves. To Georg's immense displeasure and frustration, no matter how much he tried to forget, it didn't work. Maria could never be wiped from his mind. Not now. Not when he'd finally become aware of something they'd shared, despite the obvious lateness of the realization.

How he wished he could go back and reverse time, reverse events! There was so much he regretted now. So much he wished he would have done, things he wished he would have said. But after several months of agonizing over such a trouble as that, Georg gave up on his guilt-ridden regrets and just let them be. The past was the past, and nothing could be changed. The only thing that could be altered was the future, and how he wished one last time that he'd given thought to the future, not the immediate present, when he'd left Maria behind in Austria.

Georg jerked when he heard something shatter, and swore as he realized he'd knocked over a small hand mirror that was resting on the bathroom sink where he was trying to do up his bow tie properly and comb back his slowly graying hair. How on earth had he managed to do that? Then again, he managed to do a lot of things that he couldn't explain when he was lost in his thoughts of the past. He knew that this had to stop, but he just couldn't fight it; he chose not to. There was no point in it. Everything since _then_ was "come what may." Just like this damned dinner with Colonel Jacob Carlson. He honestly wish he didn't have to go, but with Max as his friend, Georg got tied into many engagements that he'd rather not be a part of. Why on earth he went along with them all was beyond him, but part of him sensed that it was running away from the past. Filling his days with meaningless things and trying to convince himself that they actually _did_ mean something to him.

He turned around when Marta dashed breathlessly into the doorway, eyes wide, obviously wondering what it was that she'd heard shattering. Seeing the shards of glass from the broken mirror, the fourteen year-old girl stepped in and reached up to her father's neck, wordlessly tying his bow for him. She said in her characteristic quietness, "Papa, Uncle Max is here."

Georg took his daughter's chin in his hand and stroked her jaw lovingly, marveling at how grown up she appeared to be. It seemed as if only yesterday that she was soon to turn seven and Fräulein Maria had shown up on his doorstep. And he loved being called "papa" again. Of all of his children, Marta was the only one who'd reverted to the more intimate name for her father after a long passage of time. Just like his other children, she was growing up, and he was grateful to know that he'd been there to see it. He placed a kiss tenderly on her forhead and gave her a small smile. "Thank you, pet. I'll be home late tonight, so don't stay up waiting, alright?" She merely nodded in answer. "And make sure Gretl doesn't stay up any later than ten. You all have a busy day tomorrow." Georg drew his daughter into a one-armed hug and then hurried to grab his jacket and get out the door.

Five minutes later, Georg was climbing into his car, Max seated comfortably in the front passenger's seat. He started the ignition and they took off, not talking at all. There wasn't much to say, and Georg knew Max was exhausted; he'd just returned from some place or other that had to do with war refugees from overseas. It suited him just fine. Dusk was just beginning to settle over the horizon, and he found it odd that he found so little an enjoyment in the slowly darkening, eeriely golden world that he and Max were driving through.

Max finally commented, "You know, Georg, one day you'll look back on this evening, and for some 

reason, find a reason to thank me for dragging you along."

Georg only grunted in reply as they pulled up to the expensive restaurant and handed the vehicle over to a valet to park for them. As they made there way to their assigned dinner table, Georg couldn't help complaining to himself that he would rather not be here. But as Max had pointed out, the polite thing to do was to come to this dinner, since they were both friends of the newly promoted Colonel Carlson. On top of that, Max had pointed out that all Georg would do at home is sit and brood over a brandy, so therefore it was a good idea to get out for just one night. It really wasn't asking so much, was it? Georg didn't know.

Jacob was standing up to greet Max and Georg, and Georg automatically stuck his hand out and gave a firm handshake. After a few more quick introductions, the men all settled down into their seats, and thus began the evening that Georg would have called a dreadful bore if it weren't for the turn of discussions halfway through the meal.

Max, always the gossip and always wanting something interesting to talk about to keep the flow going and everybody happy, asked Jacob cheerfully, "You certainly got a fine promotion, my boy. How did that come about—if you don't mind sharing?"

The newly instated colonel leaned back in his chair, glass of white wine in his hand. He seemed to be sizing Max up, wondering if Max was only asking to catch Captain von Trapp's attention. The naval captain was clearly not in the same universe as the rest of them were, and he looked explicitly as if he'd been dragged along; his eyes seemed glazed over. Jacob finally said, "The usual. Wounded in battle, but showed courageous leadership all the same."

Georg, staring past everyone, obviously looking at some invisible wall, twitched when he heard Jacob's casual words. Damn, he made it sound as if it was nothing! Damn him! Images of Georg's time in service flashed through his mind. Exploding ships, flooding submarines, screaming men, fire, smoke, despair. The Austro-Hungarian flag waving proudly in the breeze, despite the sacrifice made to keep it upright. The enemy's flag in tatters and reluctantly being lowered in admitted defeat. Then the crushed and tattered Austro-Hungarian flag being lowered in surrender. Before he realized what he was saying, he abruptly stated, "Well, Colonel, tell me about it." The mere thoughts of past battles sent a surge of adrenaline through Georg's body, and he suddenly wanted to recount with those who'd known similar hardships and challenges he had faced.

Jacob Carlson stared at Georg for a moment, blinked, then said, "I presume you know that I went into this war as a lieutenant, and shortly after I was enlisted and shipped to European soil, my platoon was sent on a mission to locate and destroy craftily hidden German mine fields. God, they all put it as if it was the most easy job in the world, when the truth is that one wrong step and you'll be blasted to smitherines."

Georg nodded knowingly. "As you know, my experience lies within the naval forces, but it's much the same. One wrong move and you could compromise yourself and end up dead. On top of that, with submarines having been fairly new a method of warcraft when I enlisted in the First World War, we all lived in deathly fear of something unexpectedly giving out on us." Georg took a sip of his wine, cueing Jacob to continue with his story.

Jacob raised his eyebrows at the naval captain, not entirely sure what to make out of his monologue, but went on regardless. "Well, throughout the first few years, my ranks rose up to lieutenant colonel and naturally my duties and such shifted around. About two years ago now, the battalion I was in charge of at the time had an assignment to locate German soldiers- not Nazis, thank God; I don't think any of us could have survived the Nazis- and capture them. It was a group that was doing a large amount of damage to our work in the area, and we all set out with a determination to capture as many as we could.

"As fate would have it, I stumbled accidently upon a well-hidden mine field and chaos ensued. Gun fire was all over the place, and for some stupid reason, I made myself vulnerable and went running across an open field. Most of the battalion was either fleeing or in a different location, and just as I made it into the woods, I got shot in the chest. No one knew where in the world I was, and it's a miracle that I didn't die. I 

think I lay on the edge of that forest for a good three days, open wound so very near my heart. I scared myself when I managed to take a look at the damage, and after trying my best to bind it with a flimsy leg wrap, I vowed not to look at it again if I could help it.

"The actual action that got me this- albeit late- promotion was that sometime over those few days, a large group of German soldiers congregated to celebrate the supposed scattering of my battalion in that field. The incredible amount of reckless noise they were making was what jolted me into consciousness. By some crazy whim and otherworldly strength, I managed to position my rifle so that it was at least pointing in their direction, and fired. The next thing I knew, there were bright, loud explosions and I passed out, sure that I was dead. I was later told that I must have fired at a minefield that miraculously hadn't exploded beforehand, and killed the majority of the soldiers there." Jacob finished his tale, now lighting a cigarette and watching Georg quietly, waiting to see what the man would make of it.

If Georg had been in another world when he'd first walked into the building, there was nothing to describe where his mind was now. Chest wound. Scattered battalion. He'd survived. Georg was finally aware of a pounding silence and managed to question, "But you say your battalion scattered. Who found you? How was it that you got the necessary help so that you could heal?"

Jacob offered calmly, "The explosions from the last few minefields alerted some battalion members that were hiding out nearby. They found me by doing some simple tracking, and then immediately got me transferred to an army hospital some two hundred miles away. Once I got there, it was determined that I would have to be sent to England to get the needed care. By then, I was going into shock that the doctors feared irreversable, so I was quickly flown to England to seek medical care immediately. I was out of service for a good year and a half."

"So by the time you'd returned to the battle field, the war was wrapping up." Even as Georg said this, his mind was reeling, remembering the details from a night that was now so long ago, yet clearly etched in his memory. She'd had a chest wound, and it sounded similar to what Colonel Carlson had suffered. But Maria had gone into shock mere minutes after being shot; her chances of having survived were near nil. And she was a skinny young girl, not a robust military man. But then again, what she'd lacked in time had been made up by the number of families that were still in the area; all that Carlson had near him was a few drunk German soldiers that wouldn't have cared less about him, and they ended up dead anyways. _What if... what if..._

Spontaneously, Georg stood up, oblivious to the table and nearly upsetting everything on it. In the process, he seized Max's arm in a vice-like grip and dragged him to a far corner of the restaurant, immediately beginning to order in rushed German, "Max, I don't care what it takes or how long it takes- use whatever means you have to use to find out what _exactly_ came to be for a Fräulein Maria Rainier. I _need _to know."

Max's eyes were wide as he stared at his old friend and the bizarre and sudden request processed in his brain. The usually evasive and hard-to-read eyes of Captain Georg von Trapp were swimming with desperation, confusion, hurt, hope, and yes, even longing. Max said softly, kindly, "You love her."

Georg shook his head furiously. "I don't know. I can't explain it. I don't understand it myself. Just find her, please. Or anything about her."

Nodding his head, Max conceded. "I will do my best. Would you like to leave now? I can make an excuse for you and arrange a different ride home." Georg nodded mutely, then turned to leave the building. Max let out a deep sigh as he watched his best friend's figure disappear with troubled eyes. This would be no easy project, and Max knew that somehow, Georg's livelihood depended on the results of this newly assigned quest. It would take time, it would be costly, and it would be difficult, but nevertheless, Max knew he could do this. He had to. Maria had been all that was left behind.


End file.
